


Accidental Lycanthropy

by merellia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A multiplicity of AUs, Accidental Lycanthropy, Accidental Steter (if you squint), Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Set vaguely pre-3a or 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merellia/pseuds/merellia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Scott was accidentally bitten by a werewolf, and one time Stiles was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Lycanthropy

**Author's Note:**

> In response to a comment I'd made on metisket's "This Doesn't Hurt," she said "I assume Scott will eventually get bitten. Somehow. Probably by accident, because that's just his luck." I found that very inspirational.
> 
> (A couple other possible tags aren't listed for reasons of narrative surprise; if you prefer not to be surprised, check the end notes first.)

5.

Scott has just dropped the disc into tray of Stiles’ xbox when something crashes through Stiles’ bedroom window and barrels into him, snarling and biting.

Scott screams, falling over and kicking at the thing’s face. 

It rolls nimbly out of his way, staring at him from a crouch. “You’re not Stilinski,” the thing—creature—man? growls.

“Shit, fuck, no, I’m not!” Scott yells, clutching at his side as he tries to scramble back from the red-eyed figure. His free hand falls on the BAL-27 assault rifle Stiles had brought out for the game and he clutches at it, then flings it at the man.

The man dodges easily. “You smell like him,” he growls, looming closer.

Then Stiles bursts through his bedroom door, snarl rattling in his throat, and his face is all different, too, just like the guy’s, and the two fall together, ripping at each other with clawed hands.

Scott can’t find it in him to mourn for the destruction of Stiles’ limited pro edition of CoD and passes out instead, the burning pain of his side following him into darkness.

4.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Deucalion says, and Scott can hear the grin in his voice. Scott squirms, but Deucalion just clutches him harder, claws digging into his arms. This night sucks. All he’d been trying to do was buy some ice cream before his mom came home, but no, a psychotic demon wolf had to intervene. 

“Give him back,” Derek growls. Past his shoulder, Scott catches sight of Allison and Stiles, their faces pale in the moonlight. Allison has an arrow knocked to her crossbow, and Stiles has a bat, dark with iron spikes.

“Well, since I _did_ kill two other of your pack members,” Deucalion muses, his fingers tightening. Scott tries not to wince, but isn’t sure he managed that, as Derek’s growl rattles up a notch.

“Very well,” Deucalion says airly. “I’ll return him to you--as a gift. For a while,” he adds, just before Scott feels teeth clamping into his shoulder.

Over Scott’s shout, Deucalion says, “Oops. My teeth slipped.”

3.

“Oh, yes. Just like-- _oh_ ,” Scott moans as Allison shifts above him, clenching around him with knees, thighs, and slick, tight heat. 

“Y’like that?” Allison asks breathlessly, and does it again.

Scott’s toes curl. “Y-yeah,” he gasps, hands sliding to hold tight at Allison’s hips. He can’t keep himself from trying to thrust up, again, harder.

“Nm-mn,” Allison says, chiding. Then bends down, her hair falling in a dark curtain about them, and licks her way into his mouth. Scott trades kiss for kiss, gasping wetly as she nips at him, then again, harder, and— 

“Ouch!” Scott jerks back against the pillow, tonguing at his bleeding lip.

“Oh,” Allison breathes, pulling away from him with heavy-lidded eyes a hazy red—what? _Red_?

 

2.

It’s been a great evening, first movies and pizza, then all the werewolves flocking outside for a full moon run in the preserve. After they’d returned, everyone had piled together in the middle of the living room in a warm, sleepy heap. Derek had then tried to leave, but Stiles had pulled him down to join them all. 

“Stop—kicking—me,” Boyd growls.

“I’m not kicking you!” Isaac says.

“You’re both kicking me, so stop it and shut up now,” Derek snaps.

Stiles groans. “Trying to sleep here, guys.”

“Liar. I saw you trying to kiss Derek,” Allison says. 

Erica’s mutter is almost sleepy-inaudible. “C’mere, Boyd, I'll kiss you, just ignore Isaac.”

“He’s still kicking me,” Boyd says.

“No, he’s kicking me, and if you don’t stop, I’ll stop you myself,” Derek grumbles.

The pile shifts itself around.

“Get off my hair,” Lydia shrieks, smacking a shoulder.

“It wasn’t me, it was Isaac!”

“Damn it, I said stop kicking and shut up,” Derek says, biting the offending ankle.

“THAT WAS ME,” Scott yells.

 

1\. 

Scott and Stiles were the first in line for Hale’s House of Horror on its opening night, Stiles jittering with excitement. “Best. Halloween. Ever, Scott!”

“There’s a place up in Lake Beacon that I heard was really great,” Scott says as they’re ushered inside, up a narrow stairway with walls hung in thick black cloth.

“Yeah, but this House of Horror is _our_ House of Horror.”

Scott says, “It’s the Hales’ House of Horror, you mean.”

Stiles waves a hand dismissively. “Semantics. It’s here, we’re here, it’s ours!”

The door at the top of the stairs opens slowly, with extra creaking noises.

Several corners and levels later, Stiles clutches Scott’s arm and shrieks in a very unmanly way as another werewolf-masked person leaps out at them, growling wildly with red-lit eyes. Then he bursts into laughter. “Dude!”

Scott tries to shake Stiles’ hands off his arm, or at least lessen their tight clutch, and tries to steady the hammering of his heart with deep breaths. “Yeah. But they kinda look like _Buffy_ vampires.”

Stiles stops, his mouth dropping open. “You watched _Buffy_? Why didn’t you _tell_ me? We could’ve marathoned! Pizza and sodas and—”

“I didn’t—man—it was,” Scott heaves a sigh. “Allison and I watched some episodes,” he confesses. “She really likes Buffy.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, then blinks, then grins. “She can marathon them with us, too!”

The werewolf growls at them, jerking its chin towards the empty corridor ahead of them. 

Scott rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, fake vampire wolf,” he says, and reaches out to tug at the player’s mask, “we’re moving on—Ow! OW,” he yelps, as the player jerks back in startlement, teeth closing on Scott’s hand.

“Fuck!” He snatches his hand back, grabbing hold of it tightly as blood begins welling up between his fingers.

“Oh, shit,” says the werewolf, red fading from his eyes. Scott watches in disbelief as pointed teeth, under the uv lights flat-black with Scott’s blood, recede into teeth that look much more human.

“Oh my god,” Stiles moans, ecstatic. 

 

Plus 1:

“I didn’t mean to,” Laura whines.

“How could you not mean to? You bit me! Your brain. Told your teeth. To chow down. On me! On Stiles-flesh! I was a no-go zone!”

“You just smelled so good,” Laura says, helplessly.

Stiles scowls at her, one hand clutching the space between his shoulder and neck. “The only one I’m supposed to smell good to is Derek! Who you are not!”

 

Bonus Plus .5:  
“Oh, dear,” Peter says, letting Stiles’ wrist slide limply from his grasp. “How unexpected.” His smile is much, much too smug. “I suppose that just goes to show that I was always the alpha.”

**Author's Note:**

> In various AUs, Stiles and Allison are already werewolves. That's all!


End file.
